


Christmas? You must be joking.

by xlechatnoir



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, James Bond isn't such a tough guy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlechatnoir/pseuds/xlechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, like every year I decided to write something in English. For the past two years I wrote two Sherlock Christmas fanfics, but this time I'm rather obsessed with James Bond and Q. We all need a little fluff during Christmas, listening to Mariah Carey every five minutes. So... Merry Christmas! </p><p>And a big thank you and a fancy salute to my lovely beta : http://frostmidget.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas? You must be joking.

Two bullets missed his head by less than five centimeters tearing out a piece of plaster from the edifice he was hiding behind. Bond sighed and reloaded his PPK/S nine-millimeter-short pistol, waiting for the shooters to run out of ammunition. Who would have thought that this is how his Christmas Eve would look like? Maybe he was getting too old for this after all. Silence interrupted his little tête-à-tête with thoughts, finally. He slowly peeked from behind the corner of Kensington Palace Street, few meters away from the Embassy of Russian Federation. There was only one man left hiding behind a burning taxi, Bond could almost hear his shaking hands trying to find his last clip. The whole street was blocked and all surrounding buildings were evacuated two hours ago when one ostensibly harmless demonstration turned into a bloody manifest of hatred towards… mankind, apparently. Four men armed to the teeth have started shooting at the crowd, disregarding whether they hit a Russian, an English civilian or a policeman. And of course James Bond just happened to be there, because that’s his life and because of Q’s ridiculous request from the other day. But first things first.

He tried not to look at several dead bodies riddled with bullets, sprawled on the street in the pools of blood. Bloody beautiful Sunday morning. Behind the knocked over car, the dark-haired man has finally found his lost magazine. He reloaded his gun, too focused on his actions to notice the cold sensation of a barrel pressed against his temple. In the last panic attempt he pointed his gun at Bond standing just next to him. Yes, maybe James could have said something, warned him, but then he saw pure hatred, the madness cut loose in the man’s eyes and without hesitation he pulled the trigger. It wasn’t the time to ponder whether this psycho would shoot him or not. In the end he managed to reload his gun, that was enough.

***

Few rays of the afternoon sunlight peered through the heavy, half drawn curtains glaring Q’s sleeping figure and forcing him to wake up. He muttered something, wiping away a trail of drool, after a minute he found his glasses left on a nightstand. An old-fashioned, programmed radio has been playing for almost two hours but again not loud enough to wake him on time. Q stretched, slowly scrambling out of bed in his grey pyjamas. “Baby it’s cold outside” filled his apartment and accompanied him on his usual way to a laptop left on the desk between two piles of papers and books. He put in an earphone, clicked and wrote a few things, still yawning and trying to fully recover from sleep. High time for his morning, um, afternoon Earl-Grey. Listening to the dim noise of the street and annual playlist of Christmas songs, he put the kettle on, chose a big, white mug in the shape of a snowman and began to wonder where he’d put his slippers. First thing Q hated about winter : cold tiles making going bare-footed impossible.

In the right ear he still hasn’t heard anything interesting, only a soft humming noise. Q poured boiling water into the mug, shifting from one foot to another. On the way back to the living room he pulled up his pyjamas trousers so as to not to trip over them. Oh great, now they’re playing “All I want for Christmas is you”, a perfectly matching song to the windowsill covered in snow. In moments like this Q was really grateful to no one in particular for being able to sit in his pyjamas, in front of his laptop with a mug of hot Earl-Grey in hand. He let himself yawn and brush the unruly, black locks last one time, then he got down to work.

***

The noise of many police sirens drowned out the awful sound of bullet penetrating a human skull. The bloody spatter on his hand and the black wool coat was enough to completely ruin this Sunday. Bond stepped back from the slowly falling corpse and hid his gun. One minute later the police were all over the place, noting the evidence and covering bodies with plastic bags.

‘Q, I may be a little bit late’ Bond walked away, straightening his coat and jostling through the crowd.

‘Don’t forget to buy Christmas lights’ Q’s soft, peaceful voice echoed in his right ear.

‘Your concern for my well-being is touching, Q’ James didn’t look back at the ambulances waiting for eight corpses. He found a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his hands.

‘Don’t wallow in self-pity, 007’ he could almost see the look on Q’s face, a little smile with just a small quirk of the lips. The cocky bastard’s surely sitting comfortably on his skinny ass in front of the laptop sipping his first Earl-Grey.

‘Still in your pyjamas?’ he retorted bitingly, putting on dark, grey gloves. It was freezing and as if to make things worse, the snow’s begun to fall again.

‘It’d be nice if you find a white ones, maybe star-shaped.’ Bond would have bet his life that he heard one, shameless sip of tea on the other side of the earphone.

***

Warm notes of “Baby, it’s cold outside” reached his ears at the same moment when he finally lugged a weighty fir tree up the stairs to the fourth floor. The corridor was empty and quiet except for soft music coming out from the flat 25. Fortunately Q didn’t have any neighbours and to think of that, Bond was pretty sure it wasn’t just a matter of luck. A faded red carpet of the corridor was covered in fir-needles and puddles of melted snow. He stopped for a second, denying himself the kind, pleasant feeling slowly warming up and spreading all over his body when he was standing in front of Q’s front door with a Christmas tree by his side. It wasn’t like him to think about things like Christmas, fireplaces and Mariah Carey’s songs. But even if he didn’t want to admit it, it wasn’t about Christmas or a warm place to hide from winter at all. For the first time in his life he wanted to have a Christmas tree, to decorate it and have a Christmas dinner. Never in his entire life had he felt like this, listening to the steps of another human being hustling behind the door. Bond put on the brave face, Christmas or not, he won’t give Q the opportunity to talk about his softer side. He opened the door and walked in.

Well, he had to admit that Q’d at least tried. The flat has never been really messy or dirty, but surely it wasn’t material for the cover of Home magazine Christmas special edition. Few postcards have been pinned to the white wall just above a big, red sofa. And, oh, he could see the table. Bond didn’t want to think what Q did with all those papers, books and all kinds of high-tech. However, he won’t be surprised when he find them on the bed.

“Come and hold the door for me. I bought something on the way’ James looked at Q when he emerged from the kitchen holding two mugs of tea. Seeing a surprised look on Q’s face will never get old. The young man put aside their mugs and walked after James straightening his navy-red cardigan. He’d even found one with two reindeers on it. Without a word he did what he was asked, looking at Bond in complete disbelief.

James lifted the fir and squeezed with it through the open door. The dominant scent of warmth and steaming Earl Grey was joined by the aromas of winter: fresh fir-needles, snow and cold.

‘Bond, what is this?’ Q asked closing the door slowly behind his back. The older man had taken off his coat and gloves and hung them before he turned towards the tree to fix it in a stand.

‘This, our national intelligence treasure, is a Christmas tree’ Bond answered patiently as if he was talking to primary school boy.

‘I see what it is, but what is it doing in my flat?’ Q stepped forward arms crossed on his chest. ‘We already have a Christmas tree’ he added before James had a chance to respond. He followed Q’s pointing finger to the spot somewhere behind his back.

There was a some kind of a small, black support on the table, near the running laptop. Directly above the peculiar black thing, he noticed a vase-sized Christmas tree, floating in the air and shining with all the colours of the rainbow.

‘Q, it’s a hologram’ he said cautiously.

‘Well, of course it’s a hologram. I finished it yesterday when you were sleeping. Took me two days to create it.’ Well, that was unfortunate, Bond thought looking at Q and feeling a little bit lost. Surely creating a hologram of a Christmas tree wasn’t a big deal for a computer genius like Q, but still.

‘Um… It’s… pretty…-‘ he started awkwardly.

‘Oh don’t bother’ Q waved him aside and gave him his mug with still steaming tea. And that was exactly why Bond has still been living in Q’s flat. Since he’s practically moved in, having nowhere else to go, he couldn’t recall even one domestic drama with Q and him in leading roles. There was something about Q and his way of behaviour that made all potential quarrels impossible. One look or even one word from Q was enough to calm him down, besides Q seemed to perfectly understand all of his short “I don’t want to talk about it”, his fits of rage and sudden silent moments. At that time Q always backed off to his laptop.

Now, Bond looked at the younger man adjusting his glasses and sipping his tea patiently, too focused on the computer screen to notice that Bond was staring -

‘You’re staring’ - or maybe not, you’d never really know with Q.

‘So have you prepared something special for tonight?’ Bond decided to put an end to the growing awkward silence.

‘Like what for instance?’ Q was still too occupied to notice Bond’s efforts to move their undecorated Christmas tree nearer the sofa. Cold, bluish screen light was illuminating his features and reflecting in his glasses.

‘Like a special Christmas dinner?’ he puffed getting up, he would never admit that he actually heard a crack somewhere in his lower back. When hearing a no answer, he glanced at Q’s face which was practically saying “you must be joking”.

‘What? I bought a bloody Christmas tree! And the Christmas lights you asked for. Not to mention fighting for Queen and the country since early morning.’

‘First of all – Christmas is tomorrow’ Q got up from behind the laptop and started to gather his things into a bag. ‘Secondly, thank you for the lights and a tree’ he passed James and took his thick scarf. ‘In the third place, I ordered Chinese take-out and I will be back in… Less than thirty minutes –“

‘Chinese for Christmas?’ at least he tried to interrupt. Q wrapped the chequered scarf tightly around his neck and put on his black winter coat.

‘You should be grateful that Mr Yong is working this evening. And finally, you can find all the necessary ornaments in a golden-red box under the bed’ James heard only the last line of the speech thinking that Q dressed in all these warm clothes, looking like a mother’s boy going to school, will never get old either. To make things even better he pulled a winter hat over his ears. And then he was gone.

Q returned after 28 minutes. Sometimes Bond found his accuracy a little bit disturbing.

Suddenly Bond felt a cold breeze of winter wind on his back when Q opened the door and came in, cheeks and nose flushed and glasses steamy.

‘After a moment of consideration, I bought two extra fortune cookies to somehow honour this evening and…’ he started but paused noticing that the whole flat was dark; the only glowing object was a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. Q stepped forward, placing the take-away on a nearby cupboard. Meanwhile James got up from the sofa and stood next to his “work” with feigned modesty.

‘You were saying?’ Bond smiled lightly observing as Q gradually approached him.

‘I must admit. It’s absolutely outstanding, Bond’ the younger man took off his coat and scarf and tossed them at the sofa.

‘Never underestimate reality, Q’ soft whisper behind him sent shivers down his spine. Strong, big hands of the agent touched his waist hugging him from behind. “I’m wondering when you start calling me James out of the bed.’

‘I’m still working on it.’ Q felt a few little kisses placed on his exposed neck. He still couldn’t take his eyes off the shining Christmas tree. It was perfect, James has put all the ornaments, baubles, lights, golden chains and a star on top. ‘Our Christmas dinner will get cold’ he whispered when he noticed Bond’s fingers unbuttoning his reindeer cardigan.

‘Christmas is tomorrow, you said it yourself.’ He said as he slid the jumper from Q’s shoulders. ‘And I think I found something more interesting than stir-fry beef.’

‘Oh, Mister Bond, you flatterer’ Q retorted ironically, turning in his arms to at last meet his eyes. A sudden sultriness made Bond shudder a little bit when he felt Q’s slim, fragile body pressed against his and a warm breath ghosted over his right ear. ‘So? What are you waiting for? Get on with it, 007.’

Bond, still as a statue, glanced at Q’s face expectantly.

‘James’ after a few seconds Q’s soft voice finally echoed in his right ear.

***

Q woke up in the middle of the night for an unknown reason. He reached for his tablet left on a nightstand and moved away from Bond’s sleeping silhouette. All the neighbourhood was quiet, hidden under the snow lighting up the night sky.

The device has turned on glowing in the dark and illuminating their figures covered up with a white duvet. Q’s eyes rested upon agent’s broad shoulders and muscular arms. After a moment he gently caressed the muscles’ lines and painfully visible scars, careful not to press his finger too hard. He knew better not to wake up 007 in the middle of a night. Q shifted under the duvet and sat cross-legged with the self-designed tablet on his laps. He still couldn’t forget the sight of blood on Bond’s hands when he came back home. Of course he saw it, even if agent was really careful to hide it. Q never asked about things like that, he knew perfectly well that just as he may have numb hands from his keyboard, James’s hands sometimes may be covered in someone else’s blood. And as long as it was someone else’s, there was nothing to talk about. Only then was it all right.  
‘Q, don’t stare at me and go to sleep’ suddenly he heard Bond’s grumble. The older man turned on his back and looked at Q’s skinny body and ruffled black locks.  
‘Can you please not be 007 for a moment and sleep soundly like a normal civilian?’ Q grabbed his tablet, pretending to be wrapped up.

‘Oh, 007, it was James only three hours ago’ Bond could swear on his life that he actually saw a blush on Q’s cheeks. ‘To be precise it was more like ‘oh James’, wasn’t it?’

‘And who’s acting like a baby now? Go to sleep, I’m working’ Q adjusted his glasses to conceal his embarrassment. Bond was lying next to him outstretched comfortably on his back, arms crossed under his head. Q knew this ‘showing off’ position too well.

‘Sleep? When you’re dazzling me with your tablet? I wonder what you would say if I brought my working-tool to our bed’ 007 made himself comfortable on his right side, peeking on the screen of Q’s tablet.

‘I fear we need to have you tested again if you can’t distinguish the possible harm of using a gun between using a tablet.’ Bond was watching how Q’s fingertips were brushing and sliding on the screen.

‘You forget who you are sleeping with, Q.’

‘Oh, believe me, I never do. You can be sure of that, 007’ there was a tiny, half-sad smile on Q’s face when he leaned down to Bond and kissed his fair head.

***

An iPhone ringtone broke the sleepy harmony of a winter morning. Bond, still soaking wet after a quick shower, came back to the bedroom, leaving two steaming mugs on the table. He hadn’t turned on the radio, grateful for one peaceful beginning of a day in London muted by snow. Passing by the unmade bed he quickly glanced at Q’s body sprawled on it and still deeply asleep. If he looked closer, he could see a few lovebites on the milky, soft skin. The most of all he loved Q’s hair, dark and unkempt after the night, contrasting with the whiteness of a pillow.

‘Bond’ he finally picked up the phone. One sleepy grumble resounded from the bed. The agent went to the living room. ‘What do you mean by ‘a break-in on Downing Street’?’  
Bond furrowed his brows, opening a humming fridge. Behind him their Christmas tree was twinkling happily with dozens of colourful lights.

‘Yes, of course. I’ll contact Q immediately’ he peeked at the open two-sided door of the bedroom. As if knowing that something bad has happened, Q emerged slowly only in chequered boxers, tapping on his tablet. He raised a hand going past Bond informing him that he’s already working on it. ‘Understood.’ He hung up the mobile phone. Maybe M was right about the poor condition of MI6, after all they still didn’t figure out that he’s been living at Q’s place for months.

‘Something’s wrong with the security system, I’ve just been called. I’ll take a cab’ Q’s voice brought him back to reality. His skinny quartermaster was pacing around the flat collecting his things from everywhere, trying to smooth his hair. In the end he found his reindeer jumper from yesterday on the floor. ‘I’ll contact you when I get to the headquarters.’

In times like this, when the house of the prime minister of your country is under attack, there is no time for Christmas and jolly seasonal songs. Pity, he’s just started to like Christmas, especially the last night part. Now Q stuffed his tablet, laptop and a great deal of some high-tech devices in a big black bag, wrapped himself up in a coat and a scarf and left.

Bond left few minutes later, having forgotten two still steaming mugs of tea.

***

‘007, you must protect Prime Minister and his family’ he bit his tongue from retorting something like “thank you for stating the obvious, Q” or “what the hell am I doing right now?!”. The sappers’ team has been called, there was a rumour about a bomb somewhere in the basement of the building. The sound of sirens was deafening, he was barely hearing Q’s voice in his earphone. The situation was tense, of course it was tense, it was bloody Downing Street, but Bond didn’t actually know why they called him. He was wondering about how it was even possible for someone to plant a bomb on Downing Street. On Christmas.

‘I sent a car to pick you up and get you to the emergency house. It should be waiting for you by now’ Bond could imagine Q’s concentrated face focused on the screen, on the little red dot indicating his position.

The agent went through the cordon of policemen in the company of four other agents, leading Prime Minister with his family. Like Q said, there was a black Audi waiting to finally get them away from this pandemonium of lights, sounds and panic.

***

‘Q, we just…’ suddenly the signal disappeared as well as a little red dot on his screen. Q felt how his heart jumped. He leaned forward looking desperately for the lost dot.  
‘007. 007, respond. I lost you’ he said, doing his best to keep his voice unwavering and composed while the only thing he’s heard was the constant noise of radio waves. ‘Bond, respond.’

A little red dot. Q felt like his whole world began to crumble.

***

‘Q? Q?! What the hell is going on there?!’ Bond pressed harder the earphone when he didn’t hear the answer. The black Audi turned right smoothly, going straight to the safety house.

‘Bond?! Oh thank God. You disappeared from the map, I can’t see you’ if he didn’t know Q, he would tell that his quartermaster was maybe a little bit concerned about him, nothing more.

‘I’m in the car with Prime Minister, we should be there in ten minutes, tops’ he cautiously moved away from the driver and Prime Minister, as much as it was possible in a car. ‘Q, what’s going on there?’

***

‘To be honest, we have some turmoil in here. Especially in Q-branch, I think there’s a bug in the system. We’re working on it.’ Q’s voice has calmed down, he sounded sure and focused. Even if he was going from one laptop to another, turning his head to look on screens surrounding his team, he composed himself hearing Bond’s voice.  
‘Does M know about this?’

‘Of course he knows. But like he said : Prime Minister is our priority right now.’ Q adjusted his glasses and rolled up the sleeves of his reindeer jumper. Thousands of numbers moving on the screens were reflecting in his glasses. ‘I think we can handle a little bug before Christmas ends.’

On the other side Bond just had to smile furtively.

‘Contact me when you reach the destination. I’m still working to have you back on screen’ Q was skimming through the numbers of code before his eyes. Suddenly all screens went black, everyone froze instantly gaping at Q. He frowned, tapping on his laptop rapidly.

‘Bond, I think we…’

And then, a short message appeared on the main screen, written in a well-known font. ‘Merry Christmas, clever boy’.

***

He hasn’t heard the end of the sentence, only a loud noise, too similar to a sound of explosion. And then nothing; soft, ominous hum.

‘Q?’

***

Once again he was in China, in Hong Kong, hanging under a moving lift in one of the highest sky-scrapers. Once again he felt his heart pounding, hands sweating, muscles trembling and a long-forgotten fear seized him clenching his throat. Although this time he was in London, catching his breath and running, running through a crowd of the onlookers and shouting policemen. The sound of his beating heart and hooting of the sirens replaced the sweet melodies of a winter morning. From afar, he saw the building on fire, second time this year, but this was different, this wasn’t sad, unnerving – he felt numb. This time he was hardly breathing, clenching his fists and almost growling at the policemen repeating “you can’t go in there, sir”.

The right wing of the building was covered with smoke and the last of slowly dying flames. Only when he got there, did he realise that either he was practically deaf or he didn’t care at all what they were saying. Out of the corner of his eye he saw M barking orders with Tanner on his side. A few firemen were trying to finally put the fire out, the paramedics were guiding the wounded, burned men straight to the waiting ambulances.

‘007! 007!’ Tanner waved at him, his silhouette shrouded by the smoke and the crowd. ‘00… Bond you can’t go in there!’

Without thinking he headed straight to the building, striving through the running employees of MI6. Roughly, he pushed away a fireman. This year was hard, first M, now… He couldn’t handle now. Now was on fire, terrifying, clouded, now smelt of smoke, burned bodies and electronic equipment. Now was a humming white noise in his right ear. Suddenly he grabbed some woman by the arm.

‘Have you seen Q?’ apparently he frightened her even more, she shook her head looking at his steel eyes. He let her go and he was already about to go further when a calm voice sounded just near his left ear.  
‘And what do you think you’re doing 007?’ Q’s face was scratched in one place, his reindeer jumper had little holes burnt out. Bond looked him over standing in the middle of an escape route. His eyes stopped at Q’s bandaged hands.

‘It’s nothing, just a light burn’ Q explained at once just in case. He didn’t need a furious agent to complete the picture. Besides, Bond’s already looked as though he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. ‘Apparently, the security team screwed their job searching the building before moving in. When I was…’

Bond grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along to a distant, abandoned corner behind one of the pillars.

‘Bond? Bond, what…’ Q felt agent’s hand drawing him near, arms slowly surrounding him and pulling him even closer, warm breath on his neck, fair, short strands tickling soft skin.

‘Don’t even say anything.’

After a moment Q finally took a deep breath and hugged James back, carefully touching his broad shoulders. Frankly speaking, Q was more astonished by this sudden closeness than by a recent explosion of MI6 headquarter. It was the first time James hugged him. Really hugged him, actually surrounded him with his arms, hid his face in Q’s neck, breathing slowly.

‘Merry Christmas, James’ Q whispered into Bond’s ear. He smiled a little bit, feeling the grip of agent’s arms tightened.

***

The sound of the radio filled the whole flat with peaceful, Christmas melodies. The Christmas lights were twinkling in the darkness of the living room. The flat seemed to be cocooned by a snow duvet, muffling all noises from the outside. The laptop on a coffee table was closed, left alone and forgotten. On the wooden table two empty wine glasses were left with almost translucent signs of the lips and fingertips that were once pressed there. London outside the window, covered in fresh snow, looked like a chain of Christmas lights.

They finally had their Christmas dinner. At the table they didn’t talk about what had happened. It was enough that on their way home Q explained the explosion was caused by Silva’s last goodbye gift for MI6, waiting to be donated. It was too horrible to think how detailed his plan was, involving Downing Street, fake attack on Prime Minister and a system breakdown to get Q to the headquarters. It was too horrible to think that Silva assumed long ago that losing Q would hurt Bond the most, he’s figured it out even before they have. He really was a remarkable agent, they had to give it to him.

Nevertheless, they haven’t mentioned it eating, not very Christmas-like, lasagne. They chatted about Bond’s last mission in Argentina, about Q’s ideas for new guns and gadgets, about the fact that Bond can actually cook or at least his better than Q, who would rather make a fractal image of a meal than prepare it. At least he was doing an excellent job bringing the thai food from the near-by restaurant.

They had their Christmas dinner happily ignoring London and the world crisis. Bond was neither a soft nor a sentimental man but he’s never felt happier in his entire life seeing how Q adjusts his glasses, wrinkling his brows doing so.

***

Q was lying on his back with his head rested on a large pillow. He was looking at the ceiling and ignoring Bond’s penetrating glance and his finger stroking lightly the subtle muscle line on his left arm. Bond has just opened his mouth to say something when Q finally spoke up.  
‘I was wrong.’

‘About what?’ Bond moved away a little bit, looking at Q perplexed.

‘Until today, I have never realised how much damage your work on the field may cause to me in just one second’ Q didn’t sound sad or melancholic. In a matter of fact, he said it like he usually states an omitted problem, a little bit angry with himself and wondering how to fix it. ‘I forgot how to breathe when you disappeared from the screen. I didn’t know what to do, even if it happened before, now… ‘ he shook his head still averting Bond’s eyes. ‘Unlike you, I’m still not used to it.’ Q shrugged.

‘I was trained for this.’ Bond, now propped up on one elbow, reminded him observing Q’s profile.

‘You were trained for everything 007. I wasn’t.’ The younger man fingertips brushed lightly shallow wrinkles around agent’s eyes. He smiled gently and again looked away. Bond went silent for a moment, unexpectedly he sit up gazing at Q.

‘I may resign from the field.’ He looked Q in the eye when he said that. Surprisingly Q smiled a little as if he was looking at a little boy talking about nonsense.

‘And who would you be, 007?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe James?’ he would never admit it but his heart skipped a beat waiting for Q’s answer. But then, his quartermaster shook his head. Even if Bond was ready to quit gladly for this twelve years younger slim young man with his fragile figure and unruly black hair, for this incredible mind, he was still worried about the response and the unknown future which would come with it.

‘You’re James no matter what’ Q leaned in, cupping Bond’s face in his two hands. He briefly kissed his lips and moved back. ‘Next time I’ll try harder’ Q added simple as that, bedding down and covering himself with a thick duvet.

James Bond stayed like that for a while, sitting on the bed and observing the chaos of Q’s dark locks on the white pillow. It took him a moment to realise that he truly found somebody for whom he, 007, was ready to quit his constant fight for Queen and the country. Quit without regret. And what made him unable to believe his luck was that Q would never let him do it, would never command him anything, would respect his every choice. After so many years, James Bond found his haven in a skinny IT genius wearing reindeer jumpers.


End file.
